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A Prison Filled With Smoke

 I drew with a pencil that broke in the middle I drew with the shorter half that choked on the riddle I knew it was going to be harder to hide my fiddle I drew on top of a scar that had been ripped open too far I drew the stitches to cover the leakage in rage I made the lead to break I drew dark glasses to hide my eyes from lies that cover my face I drew empty classes where I teach freedom I knew no one would come and take the risk that it encompasses I drew the bucket  that has holes everywhere I drew the station that never sees a train only the pain of everything passing right through the empty tracks I drew a relation that is always in tension what should I say how should I pay what should I do not to stay I drew a blanket to cover my soul I drew a bullet to destroy the ghoul I knew someone will call me out I knew someone will shout I drew a chair where I can sit and think about being fair I drew a floor filled with gravity of good time smoke gathered around me suddenly, I ...

Stay

If you may..
As I say.
Lying under the pile of hay..
Hiding from the wrath of a sunny day.
Stay..
For there are promises to pay.
Stay..
For there was heaviness in your may.
Stay..
For a wanderer can loose his way.
Stay..
For all I know is loneliness is the actual prey.
Stay..
For an irreversible wait can delay..
Chaotic stains are kept just for display
Hands stretched out..
Until they give out a nervous prick.
Wounds left open.
Until they ease on their fatal stink.
This stay was never meant..
To follow the broken.
Good thing..
You never did stay.
As what’s left out..
Now is some ashes of your last smoke..
In this pale looking ashtray.

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